


Recruitment Drive

by WritLarge



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, minor appearances of characters from the comics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 10:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14872223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritLarge/pseuds/WritLarge
Summary: Curious about Batman and still exiled from the League of Shadows, Bane and his team arrive in Gotham after the events of The Dark Knight to investigate. With Batman long gone into hiding, the trip seems like a wasted effort until Barsad decides to see if any of Gotham's disaffected youth are worth recruiting...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crewdlydrawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crewdlydrawn/gifts).



> Prompter: Crewdlydrawn  
> Prompt: Barsad/John or Barsad/Bane/John. AU in which John gets in trouble as a late-teen / young adult and ends up recruited by the League while they are researching Gotham prior to TDKR timeline. Can either take place in Gotham or elsewhere! Can turn into M/M or stay GEN. No preference! =)
> 
> Thank you again to youcantsaymylastname for beta input!

John had never liked being told what to do. Too many people who were full of shit had told him to do things. Things to help him cope. Things to make him feel better. Things to do so that he would fit in. It was all bullshit. Nothing he’d ever been told to do had actually helped him and John was sick to fucking death of people thinking that if he just did what they wanted, everything would be better.

Condescending assholes.

Father Reilly tried. He was better than the social workers anyway and John had learned a lot at the orphanage. Hard-won self-taught knowledge. 

Hell, he’d figured out who the damn Batman was. That was something, even if Batman had turned out to be a disappointment. A killer, they said, though John didn’t buy it. The cops weren’t exactly on the ball in Gotham. No, something else had happened and they’d blamed Batman. It pissed John off that Batman had let them. He’d taken the fall, leaving Gotham on its own again, raising hopes and then leaving the city that had believed in its hero disappointed.

Whatever. None of it mattered anymore. He was on his own. Sixteen was the cut off point for the orphanage and now John had to take his chances by himself. Father Reilly and his school teachers had plied him with pamphlets and options, and they pushed military service hard at school. With no money and no family, maybe that was all he was good for? He might have taken the option seriously if they hadn’t been so blunt with their opinions, but fuck them. He wasn’t going to be their no-name cannon fodder. John was going to make a difference, make some kind of mark on the world by showing what he could do, fueled by all the frustration and rage that he pushed down until it burned in his gut like a white hot coal. Maybe he’d become a cop instead and show those bastards how to their jobs properly? 

He had time. Two years until he was eighteen. John stared at the piece of paper in his hand, an address scrawled in blue ink. Father Reilly had helped him find a room in a boarding house and a part-time job at a warehouse on the docks. It would do for now.


	2. Chapter 2

Bane still hadn’t called Talia and Barsad was glad for it. 

Barsad had come to the League with a number of others, trained and honed, his particular marksmanship skills encouraged. It had been mere chance that had brought him into Bane’s orbit. Bane, who radiated power. He’d respected Barsad for his skills, given him a chance to prove himself, and they’d worked together on a handful of League missions before Bane had been cast out. It had been no surprise. Bane was a rival to Ra’s in many ways. The Demon’s Head was no fool. He could see how Talia remained close to her protector. How Bane was held in awe by other assassins despite his injuries, admired for his sheer force of will, Bane’s fierce mind and strong sense of self drawing followers… It could have been different. If Bane had bent to Ra’s own charismatic leadership, submitted to Demon’s Head with gratitude and loyalty, he might have become a right hand, a valued asset. But it was not in Bane’s nature to submit to anyone.

Much to Ra’s displeasure, Barsad and a handful of others went willingly with Bane when he was exiled. Talia had not fought for him. Neither had she sought them out, not as Bane built a name and reputation of his own, and not even after her father had been killed. She was consolidating power. Claiming the League for herself.

He wanted no part of it. Barsad had no desire to be under the thumb of the League again when they had been so easily discarded and forgotten before. Bane had never submitted, but he would bend for Talia. Barsad wondered if she still cared for Bane as he did for her or if that affection had been strangled by their years apart. It was hard to form close bonds in their world and, while Barsad couldn’t deny longing for something akin to it himself at times, relationships often turned into weapons to be used against you. 

Either way, they were in Gotham of their own volition. Their contacts had informed them of the activities of the League here. Ra’s apparent death and Batman’s disappearance. Bane hadn’t believed it at first. It was true, however. Ra’s was gone. After waiting a year and hearing nothing from Talia, they came themselves to see what this Batman was about and what kind of threat he might be in future.

The results were anti-climatic.

“That is all?”

Barsad nodded, “Dent went mad. The Batman took the fall to maintain the political status quo.”

“Maintaining the political status quo by abandoning his city,” Bane’s distorted voice rumbled with disappointment. “Bruce Wayne remains in his house?”

“Shut in and refusing all visitors.”

Bane frowned. It was disheartening to discover that the man who had managed to best Ra’s Al Ghul had been laid low by politics, throwing his mission away to spare the legacy of an unworthy man. 

“Then we are done here.” Bane’s eyes flickered across Barsad’s face, reading him easily. “You have something more?”

“The city seems like a fertile ground for recruitment.” The youth of Gotham were disillusioned and neglected. Barsad and his men had taken note as they scoured the city for information. Many were broken and bitter, but there were a precious few ready to burst into flame if given the right motivation.

“I find it unlikely. They are too weak and corrupt. However, if you wish to try, I will evaluate their potential.”

Barsad nodded, glad they had no pressing need to be elsewhere. He would find recruits that even Bane’s cutting judgement would find worthy of development. 

Sifting through the rabble, Barsad’s initial criteria were simple. A degree of intelligence, perseverance, and drive. Potential. So long as they were able-bodied other things could be taught. He preferred those unfettered by family, but it was not always an encumbrance. A woman or two would be helpful as well. Their group was primarily men, but there were places women could go more easily, unnoticed or explicitly, that men could not. 

Barsad walked the streets himself. Talked with the shopkeepers during the day and the streetwalkers at night, buying poorly made drugs to trade for information in dark alleys and abandoned buildings. 

He found Jason first, a boy who reminded Barsad of himself. Angry and determined and clever, he watched Jason steal and flit through the shadows. He was young, his mother dead and his father, imprisoned in Blackgate, a pathetic example of everything that was wrong with Gotham. The boy was wary but there was longing for purpose in his eyes. It took Barsad little more than a meal and blunt honesty about his intentions to convince Jason to join him.

Jason had been at his side when they’d stumbled across Duke. Facing down a handful of ragged men, Barsad didn’t prevent Jason from leaping in to help. He had no interest in thugs. Duke, however, was not what he’d expected. The young man had been left in the care of foster parents following his parents' deaths, his clear potential rotting away from neglect. As bright as he was, Duke would be ground down in his current situation, alone and with little reason to strive for better. Barsad could change that.

Women were harder to find, too often trapped by circumstances, conditioned to submit by men all too aware of how to take advantage. Barsad was disgusted by them. He found a kindred soul in a young woman named Selina. She had no interest in joining the league, however. Instead, Selina directed him towards a girl named Holly. Holly didn’t show the same fire and fight the boys had. Her talents were in her tongue. She was savvy and clever, using charm to get what she wanted. She was also very good at appearing smaller than she was. Harmless. Barsad was intrigued, aware that once it was honed Holly’s ability to manipulate would be invaluable. Selina was happy to spirit Holly away while Barsad “convinced” the girl’s father that it would be in his best interests not to come looking for her. 

Another quiet night later, he nearly tripped over Stephanie on a rooftop. She was far too young to recruit and she had a family however inadequate. Still, Barsad had been charmed by her fearlessness.

In all, a couple of weeks of poking into dark corners had proven fruitful.

And then he found John. Or rather, John found him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Barsad turned a questioning look at the fierce young man confronting him with a baseball bat no less. “What do you want with the kids?”

Ah. He’d been watched. That was promising.

“I shall be happy to explain-”

“You’d better fucking explain.” The man pointed the bat in his direction. Poor form, but that could be corrected.

“I am Barsad and I mean no harm,” he raised his hands. “In fact, I’m offering them the opposite.”

“Talk.”

Barsad readily told him, about Bane and their own loyal team, their fight against corruption. John pieced things together quickly, more than he and Bane had, the League, Batman, peppering Barsad with questions about what they knew of the Joker and Harvey Dent and the hunt for Batman. His mind was sharp. It readily became apparent that John had also figured out Bruce Wayne’s true identity.

Barsad was thrilled. The others might make excellent recruits, but he knew that John would flourish, with his hidden rage and lightning-quick thoughts. Maybe it would be enough to help distract Bane from returning to Talia for a time?

“I want to talk to this Bane guy and see the kids.”

“Of course, Mr- ?”

“John Blake,” he frowned. “And stay the fuck away from Steph. Jesus Christ, she’s ten.”

Barsad only smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

Holy hell, Bane was massive. Not tall. Just big in a way that screamed power. John found himself sticking close to Barsad. They were closer in age, though Barsad was well worn with more experience, and John liked his dark sense of humour.

The kids were all right and Bane and his men were… well, not good, but not bad either. Apparently, they really did intend to help the kids. Or train them anyway. Barsad had beaten the shit out of Holly’s dad, which John had no problem with whatsoever. Violent, control freak asshole. A couple years trying to finish school and get by had taught John a lot about what Gotham was really like. Guns, drugs, and violence. He’d avoided enlisting and thought about the Police Academy, but watching cops take bribes from the gangs and shakedown hookers for blow jobs had soured him on the idea. 

Of course, John couldn’t have done shit about the kids if he’d wanted to. They were all determined to stay with Bane’s brotherhood. 

What could he say? John wasn’t a poster child for healthy decision making. He kept in touch with Father Reilly who peppered him with questions about life goals, education, a better job, getting married and having a family… “normal” things. He knew he wasn’t normal. That was a ring hanging up so high he could barely see the glint of it. He didn’t want to enlist, had no money for college, and marriage? John’s experience with girls was… uninspiring.

So he went back to Bane’s every couple nights, checking in, watching them. At first, he’s not sure what to expect. John’s knowledge of training was woefully limited to cheap martial arts movies and military recruitment videos. Barsad’s classes were different. Tailoring the movements and advice to each trainee, developing their strengths, balancing their weaknesses, Barsad made all of them groan as he pressed them to improve their endurance and reflexes.

Jason was the first to try and tempt John over and before he knew it they’d all aligned against him. Barsad gave him a small welcoming smile and treated him like everyone else. It’s left John with aches and bruises that lingered the next day at work along with the memory of Barsad’s calloused palms against his skin where they’d corrected his movements.

Days turned into weeks and John shamelessly planned his days around when he could return. 

“You’re doing well.”

“Yeah?” Barsad nodded at him. “As good as when you started?”

“Well,” Barsad smirked, “We’re not so far apart and I did start younger than you in some ways. I would say that physically, you have much to learn and unlearn. Mentally? You outstrip me.”

“What?”

“You only lack experience, John.” Barsad gripped his shoulder. “Your natural ability is clear.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” The heat from Barsad’s palm seeped through his thin shirt and radiated up John’s arm and across his face.

Barsad’s gaze drifted to where Bane sat in a far corner, hunched over a laptop.

“Everything okay?”

Barsad blinked slowly at him, “I... am not sure.” 

That was different.

“You’re worried. About Bane?”

“I am.” Barsad sighed and gestured for John to follow him. “Bane is a good leader. An excellent strategist and loyal to a fault towards those who have earned it.”

To a fault? Was Barsad worried about someone taking advantage of Bane? John found that difficult to imagine.

They stopped at the far end of the room to sit on a bench, backs against the wall and able to survey the entire room. Jason and Duke were doing a circuit of strength exercises on one side. On the other, several of Bane’s more seasoned men were sparring. It showed how much the boys had taken Barsad’s lectures and instructions to heart that they weren’t letting themselves be distracted by the activity in the sparring ring the way they would have when they’d first arrived.

Barsad watched the room, legs crossed at his ankles, presenting a relaxed posture that was only ruined by the tension he held in his face. The lines around his eyes and the set of his jaw, signs of stress. 

“Are you an he, umm...” John gestured awkwardly.

Barsad laughed, “Bane has little interest in relationships.”

“Oh.”

“We have always been as brothers, he and I. Even if we were both inclined, I think we are too alike in some ways. In others…”

“Others?”

“Bane is more partial to women than I am, but again, more as a brother. Paternal.” John had difficulty seeing Bane as a fussing brother or father, but Bane was an enigma in general, so who knew? Maybe he was a big fucking teddy bear under the mask. Barsad continued, “I worry that it is a particular weakness of his.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Thank you, but no,” Barsad shook his head. “There is nothing to be done for now.”

Of course not. John was just a newbie when it came to all this. Still, it was John that Barsad had actually admitted his concern to. The other men here, and there were almost all men, had a strong camaraderie. All except Bane and Barsad. The men respected them, sure, but they weren’t friendly. Even though he was considerably younger than a most of the others, Barsad was regarded highly, second only to Bane. 

John was embarrassed to admit just how avidly he’d watched them together, trying to suss out the nature of their relationship. Now he knew. Bane and Barsad were close, like brothers. Partners. But not lovers. Not that John would have cared if they had been - if they were… Okay, fine, yes. He might have cared, but not because he disapproved. 

John didn’t date. With no time and even less money, there was no point. He’d noticed people before, sure. Mostly men. John could admit that to himself now. It wasn’t something he’d let himself examine too closely, living in a Catholic home for boys where discussions about any sort of sexual urges were frowned on. The past couple years by himself had given him a lot of time for introspection, however. 

He still stayed deliberately single. What did he know about finding a boyfriend? Instead, John spent his little free time visiting the boys home and helping where he could, brushing off Father Reilly’s questions about what he was going to do with his life and whether he’d met any nice girls. He’d been visiting less since he’d begun coming to see Barsad.

“Will you stay tonight?” Barsad asked. 

John had turned down the offer of a bunk there a few times, determined to keep his distance, but now his empty room at the boarding house was less of a refuge, lonely and bleak in its isolation.

“It’s getting late to be walking the streets.” 

It was all the excuse he needed. “Yeah. All right.” He’d figure out something to tell his boss when he was late in the morning.


End file.
